


It Could Have Been You (It Should Have Been Me)

by AzzleDazzle



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Feelings, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzzleDazzle/pseuds/AzzleDazzle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hazelandglasz asked would you write Klaine with “i thought you hated me but i just accidentally sent you a booty text and you accepted and i am seriously considering it” au ? Cause that sounds cracky yet angsty (so perfecty) as fuck</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Could Have Been You (It Should Have Been Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hazelandglasz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a drabble. That didn't happen...

It’s late and Kurt is tired, but he’s been horny since he woke up this morning, like an itch under his skin that he can’t quite scratch. All day at work, he had to hide random boners, the likes of which he hadn’t dealt with since he was a teenager.

He orders takeout, strips, and gets into the shower, thoroughly cleaning his body before he steps out and begins drying off. The sound of the doorbell has him wrapping his robe around himself and he picks up his wallet on the way to the door, tipping the blushing delivery girl generously. Not even bothering to get dressed, he absently picks up his phone and sends a message to Blake before he starts eating.

_Hey, want to come over tonight? I’m awful lonely ;)_

He’s just finished eating when his phone buzzes and he picks it up with a smirk; Blake never denies him.

_Sure, what time ;)_

And that’s where he knows he’s done something wrong because Blake does not know how to capitalize or what commas are. Kurt likes him for his body and his nice cock, not for his brains. His horror is confirmed with he looks at the name and sees **Blaine Anderson** instead of **Blake Booty Call**.

He doesn’t know why he still has his ex’s number in his phone (yes he does), but he certainly hadn’t meant to send him a text. He was pretty sure that Blaine hated him after they broke up, but here he was, agreeing to a booty call.

Should he take him up on the offer? He obviously knew who it was, meaning he had kept Kurt’s number as well, and the fact that it was a booty call seemed…

What did this all mean? And what was Kurt going to to do? He had hurt Blaine, Blaine had hurt him, it had been a big thing two years ago, but didn’t time heal all wounds? Was it possible that they could be friends or even just fuck buddies? Because as nice as Blake’s cock was, Blaine’s was much better and his skills in bed had yet to be topped by anyone Kurt had been with since.

 _Fuck it_ , he thought, fingers flying over the keyboard.

_Whenever you want, I’m so cold after my shower, I need someone to warm me up…_

Kurt considered sending a picture, but he never seemed to be able to get sexy right when he was trying. His hand drifted down the flat planes of this chest, thumb flicking over his nipple. His phone buzzes again.

_Same address?_

_Yeah_

_I’ll be there in ten_

_I’ll be waiting ;)_

In his mind, flashes of Blaine over him, under him, olive skin damp with sweat, hair starting to curl through the gel, his cock thrusting into Kurt’s body, the look of adoration on his face as he held Kurt close. His hand travels further south, under the tie of his robe, teasing the hair there. Lazily, he undoes the tie, granting his hand more freedom as he grasps his dick. He takes it slow, letting the memories of Blaine wash over him as he strokes.

He’s thinking about Blaine’s mouth on him when a loud knock startles him out of fantasy. He wraps the robe around himself without bothering to tie it and, after a quick glance to confirm who it is, opens the door. “Hey-”

Blaine doesn’t wait for him to finish his greeting, stepping inside and cupping Kurt’s face with both hands. Kurt goes with it willing, Blaine’s lips plush against his own, his chest heaving a bit as though he had run the whole way to Kurt’s apartment.

“Fuck,” Kurt hisses as the door slams shut. Desperately, his hands pull at Blaine’s shirt, tugging it out of his pants, nimble fingers undoing the bowtie (and, god, how dumb is it that he’s missed the bowties?) and unbuttoning his shirt. There’s a tangled moment where he’s trying to take off Blaine’s shirt while Blaine is trying to push the robe off of his shoulders, and neither of them are trying to separate their mouths in order to do it. Kurt doesn’t know how they manage to do that without tripping, but before he knows it, Blaine has backed him into his room. Blaine’s shoes thunk as he toes out of them, both of their hands on his belt, his pants, shoving everything down before the back of Kurt’s legs hit the end of the bed.

He lays down, pulling Blaine with him, toes hooked into the waist of Blaine’s pants and forcing them all the way off. Their mouths have barely separated the whole time, hands exploring strange familiar territory and then Blaine is on top of him, bare skin to bare skin, and it feels right again. He holds the words in his mouth as Blaine kisses along his neck, sucking lightly and making Kurt writhe against him.

“You know this doesn’t mean anything,” Kurt pants, nails digging into Blaine’s shoulders and a whimper squeezing past his lips when Blaine’s teeth find that sweet spot on his neck.

“Yeah, totally, it’s just- _fuck, oh, right there_ \- bros helping bros,” Blaine replies, rolling his hips down, their cocks sliding together. “I want to be inside you so bad.”

Kurt untangles their bodies and scoots up the bed, grabbing lube and a condom and biting his lip as Blaine follows, his body graceful as a cat on the prowl until he’s looming over Kurt once again. The look in his eyes is too intense and Kurt can’t hold them with his own for long before he looks down, biting his lip as he presses the condom into Blaine’s hand and concentrates on the bottom of lube, squeezing some on two fingers.

“I fingered myself in the shower,” he says, reaching between his legs to smear it on his hole. “Thought about being pounded into the bed,” he moans as he slides a finger inside, still a little loose, “the shower, over the back of the couch,” a second finger joins the first, making him jump and stare up at Blaine, who’s smirking at him as they both move, stretching him together. “I’ve been so worked up all day, I need-” he cuts himself off with a gasp as a third finger joins, Blaine taking over the stretching as Kurt’s finger goes lax before he pulls it out, though Blaine quickly replaces it with one of his own.

“I’ve thought about fucking you,” Blaine says. “About reconnecting and taking you back here, bending you over and-” a fourth finger and they’re all rubbing against his prostate, as Blaine leans in close, “and fucking you until you’re screaming my name for the whole building to hear-” Kurt shudders, head thrown back and teeth painfully digging into his bottom lip as he tries to keep himself from coming, “until you forget everyone but me. My tongue,” a hard thrust of his fingers, “my lips,” a bite on his neck, “my fingers,” his body shudders as Blaine’s lips reach his ear, “my cock.”

Kurt loses his battle, coming with a cry, his body bowing as he clenches tightly around Blaine’s fingers, his own raking down Blaine’s back. It’s too good and his body takes so long coming down that he doesn’t even realize that Blaine is gently thrusting his fingers until they brush against his prostate. He shudders and lets out a small whine that’s lost in Blaine’s mouth.

It doesn’t take him long to fully recover and soon his legs are hitching up around Blaine’s hips, knocking his arm out of the way as he uses whatever lube left on his hand to stroke Blaine’s condom-covered cock.

“I need you to fuck me,” he says, staring straight into Blaine’s eyes. Neither of them look away as Blaine lines up his cock and pushes, slowly, into Kurt’s loose, pliant body. Blaine presses his forehead to Kurt’s, hips pulling back, agonizingly slow, the look of adoration on his face too much, and Kurt is forced to close his eyes against the tears that threaten to well up.

It’s slow.

It’s sweet.

It’s everything Kurt wants but he knows he shouldn’t, because this isn’t supposed to happen. It was just supposed to be a quick fuck, but every emotion that Kurt has repressed since Blaine walked out of his life ( _since you walked out of his life, he didn’t want to leave_ ) has come back tenfold, like a well overflowing inside his chest. He buries his fingers into Blaine’s hair and pulls him in for a kiss, moving his hips against Blaine’s, demanding more, faster, harder.

He could handle it if this were a rough, hard fucking, but this isn’t it. This… this is making love.

He bites Blaine’s lip as he tightens his legs and, moving quickly, rolls them in the bed until he’s hovering over Blaine, feeling Blaine’s cock still deep inside as he sits up. Blaine’s legs come up as he rearranges his own, then leans back, using Blaine’s thighs as leverage as he starts working himself up and down, seating himself firmly before rising again. The pace he sets is the hard fucking that he wants, but the look on Blaine’s face is still too much for him. Kurt closes his eyes and throws his head back, keeping pace like a jockey on the track.

It startles him when the rhythm he set is thrown off by Blaine sitting up, his legs crossing under Kurt’s ass as his hands stop Kurt from falling backwards. His lips are soft on the sweat-slick skin of his chest, his teeth gentle as they worry one of his nipples between them. It’s then that Kurt realizes that Blaine isn’t going to allow this to be about fucking.

This is going to be about love.

And it’s going to kill Kurt.

He let’s himself die that sweet death, let's Blaine devour him slowly and carefully, with lips and tongue and the thrust of his cock deep inside, until they’re both coming, panting, sweat-slick and covered in Kurt’s come between their heaving chests. It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

And when Blaine carefully cleans him afterwards, his eyes fall shut and his mouth forms the words before his brain can stop him.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
